Too Many Cartoons
by LisaT
Summary: A silly little vignette inspired by 'Q2' and 'The Simpsons.' Pretty much my first Voyager fanfic attempt. All senior staff.


**Too Many Cartoons, or, How To Get Rid of a Q**

Voyager's senior staff lounged in their chairs in a variety of characteristic attitudes as they awaited the arrival of the command team.

Tom lounged. B'Elanna scowled. Harry grinned. Seven sat rigidly, as did Tuvok. Neelix beamed. The Doctor glared.

"I wish they'd hurry up," B'Elanna groused at last. "I need to get back to Engineering."

"And I to Astrometrics," Seven put in, sounding as disapproving as the other woman.

Tom spun happily around in his chair, ignoring Tuvok's impassive stare. "Workaholics, both of you," he observed. "Personally, I'm happy to sit for a minute and relax."

"Tom, you're always relaxed," Harry said with another grin.

Tuvok looked down his Vulcan nose at the pilot. "It is true that Mr Paris has a lamentably frivolous attitude towards his duties," he agreed.

Tom, not one whit abashed, smirked. "Aw, Tuvok, don't be stuffy. Without me you'd all be bored witless on the bridge."

Tuvok raised one eyebrow almost imperceptibly. "Indeed."

Seven looked confused; she had still to grasp the concept of sarcasm, and Neelix, seeing it, patted her arm affectionately.

"Mr Vulcan is just engaging in a little friendly banter," he assured the former Borg. "They don't mean anything by it."

Both of Tuvok's brows went up.

Seven frowned again. "I confess I do not understand. Why do you refer to Lt. Comm. Tuvok as 'Mr Vulcan' rather than by his correct designation?"

" 'Name', Seven, 'name'," Harry muttered under his breath.

Before Neelix- or anyone else- could respond, the doors swung back and the Captain appeared, followed closely by her first officer.

"Report," Kathryn Janeway barked as she settled into her customary chair at the head of the table.

"Astrometrics is operating as efficiently as can be expected," Seven of Nine told her promptly.

The Captain nodded at her protégée, a slight smile hovering about her lips. Such a pronouncement from Seven was high praise indeed.

"We're doing well in Engineering, Captain," B'Elanna reported, "but I should warn you that we should watch out for further power sources. Our current levels will be exhausted in several weeks."

"I'm aware of that," Janeway said. "However, Neelix tells me that we should approach a suitable source within the next fortnight. Are we covered for that amount of time?"

B'Elanna nodded vigorously. "Easily, Captain."

Janeway smiled at her and raised a questioning brow at Tuvok.

"Tactical and security are operating proficiently," the Vulcan admitted.

"Good. Doctor?"

"As well as can be expected when my assistant goes off playing at the slightest opportunity," the holographic Doctor stated, glaring at Tom Paris across the table.

Tom returned the glare with interest. "Captain, I don't know what his problem is. Sickbay has been as quiet as the grave these past few weeks. What does he need me for?"

The Doctor sniffed. "I assure you, Mr Paris, there are many things I could use you for."

"Yeah, while you go off practicing your arias and playing golf," Tom muttered.

"Captain, I protest!" the Doctor said loudly.

Janeway sighed and rolled her eyes, an expression that drew a slight grin from her First Officer.

"Doctor, if sick-bay isn't busy, Tom's under no obligation to work more than his basic duty shift," Commander Chakotay reminded the Chief Medical Officer. "His primary responsibility is to the Bridge- although, admittedly, it's been quiet there too of late."

Harry yawned, testimony to Chakotay's words.

B'Elanna, her temper placated, grinned. "Are we boring you, Starfleet?"

Harry, noting that all eyes were on him, blushed furiously. "Uh. I'm sorry, ma'am, really, I didn't-"

The Captain shook her head at him. "It's OK. And it's not crunch time, either, so go easy on the 'ma'ams', h'mm?"

"Yes'm. I mean, yes, Captain," Harry stuttered, feeling new and green all over again.

Tom snickered. "Anyone'd think you'd just arrived, Ensign!"

Any further attempt by the irrepressible pilot to embarrass the young ensign was forestalled by the Captain, who glared.

Tom took the hint and subsided.

"Which reminds me, Mr Paris, I notice your attendance on the bridge has been comparatively dilatory of late," Chakotay observed. "I assume there's a reason?"

Tom looked innocent. "Of course there's a reason, Chakotay!"

Chaoktay looked sceptical.

"And that reason is?" B'Elanna prompted.

Tom shrugged. "I've been teaching Itchy and Scratchy how to pilot, that's all."

Everyone stared.

"Itchy and- who!"

Tom, they were edified to note, went a pleasing shade of purple. It went rather nicely with his gingery hair.

"Er, I mean Icheb and Q2," he amended.

The Captain rolled her eyes again. "I hate to ask," she began pensively, "but how, where, and why did those two manage to acquire _those_ nicknames?"

"I assume 'Itchy' to be Icheb," Seven interjected, her tone making her opinion clear.

"Your perspicacity is overwhelming," B'Elanna muttered.

"Well, that means Scratchy must be Q," Harry put in, an expression of unholy amusement spreading across his usually guileless face. "Can't see the resemblance, myself."

B'Elanna stared at him, and then a similar expression to Harry's dawned. "You mean-?"

Harry nodded. "You got it, Maquis!"

"I do not understand!" Seven complained.

"You're not the only one," Chakotay told her. "In case you haven't noticed, Ensign, this is a staff meeting. Care to enlighten us before we move on?"

Harry and B'Elanna shared a gleeful grin. Tom looked positively apoplectic. The Doctor muttered something about strokes.

"The result of too many cartoons, Captain," Harry said cheerfully. " 'Itchy' and 'Scratchy' are the names of two cartoon characters within another cartoon known as 'The Simpsons.'"

Chakotay nodded. "Let me guess. Twentieth century?"

"Yup," Harry responded, forgetting protocol in his glee at 'getting one over' on Tom.

"I see," the Captain said. She smiled. "Well, I certainly would not like to burden Icheb with such an unpleasant nickname-"

"Oh, I didn't, Captain!" Tom put in, sounding shocked. "That's what your godson calls him. That's what gave me the idea."

The Captain grinned. "I see," she said again. "Well, in that case, he deserves what's coming to him. I don't like calling the boy 'Q'. Too confusing. Henceforth, we'll call him Scratchy!"

Expressions of concentrated pleasure spread across the faces of the senior crew- even, in a mild sort of way, over Seven. Tuvok, needless to state, was impervious, but he felt a flicker of delight. They had endured much at the hands of the continuum, even if, by and large, they had fared better than the unfortunate crew of the Enterprise-D. All the same, revenge was very, very, sweet.

From then on, to his own dismay, Q2 found himself addressed by all and sundry as 'Scratchy.' Appalled by such irreverent treatment, it was not long before he decided to disappear in the usual flash of light.

The crew sighed with relief and life returned to what passed for normality aboard the starship Voyager.

Such could be the result of too many cartoons.


End file.
